Full Name (or real name): Fake Character (other aliases included: Vince Raspa, Patrick Walsh, and Joe Staccato) From (Hometown): Unknown Gender: Male Age: 30 years old Ethnicity: Caucasian Traits (Appearance): Currently, he is 5'10'' with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. He walks with a slight limp as his right foot drags behind him a little. He has a deep voice which is surprising due to his thin frame and small facial features. He is almost always dressed in a suit and has been known to constantly have his phone on him. Reason for coming on the plane: He is in the Witness Protection Program and is being transferred to his new location. Brief History (Criminal record, past): Fake Character was witness to a mob hit while undercover as a cop. His identity was given away after the mob member was arrested so he had to enter the Witness Protection Program and he has had to take several different aliases in the past twenty years. Nobody knows much about him for he is constantly changing his identity. Anything Else: He is very well learned in history and the easiest way to strike up a conversation with him is to bring up history. Otherwise, he is very quiet.
DAY ONE
Taking off his jacket, Fake fanned himself, unable to adjust to the bright sun beating down on him. He cursed to himself, wondering why he hadn't thought to wear sunglasses earlier that morning. After all, it had been sunny when he had left home...or, that is...what was home. What he called "home" changed so much he wasn't even sure if he had one anymore.
He stretched his arms out, still cramped from the seating on the plane. His hands still trembled from the shock of the crash. Despite being on a plane every few months, Fake still never would have imagined that he would have been in a plane crash. Air travel always seemed so safe. Then again, a lot of things had always seemed safer than they were. Fake had found that there wasn't much left to trust in the world. Clearly, the island was deserted. Plant life surrounded him, but as the survivors of the crash called out to find people, no voices came back.
Years of living alone had led Fake to find comfort and company in history. The figures were like parts of his life he could almost touch. They seemed so real. Looking around the island, he was sure he had seen it in some book. Of course, most tropical islands looked alike, but there was something oddly familiar about the place. Perhaps it had been one of the places he had imagined that he could escape in his readings. Any place where he didn't have to hide was a place Fake longed to go to.
Sighing, he rubbed his temples and watched as some of the survivors held tightly to each other. They all seemed to have someone. He was alone. It didn't bother him much though, he was always alone.
DAY TWO
Night was falling upon the island, and Fake wondered how the hell they all expected to survive the night. These people seemed so incompetent. They were acting as if it was the apocalypse. While it was a tropical island, it was still quite cold as the sun set, and he was shivering, pulling his suit jacket back on. He knew it was better to play it safe and not approach any of them directly. If they found out who he was, there was always the risk of exposure. He didn't know these people. Any of them could be a part of the mob. Some of them had olive toned skin and dark hair, and he was wary of running into any Italians. It wasn't as if they all had connections, but God only knew.
Fake took to walking up and down the shore line, kicking the sand as he went. He wasn't panicked. Somehow, he was calm and collected. Perhaps it was the years of being in the force that had given him such a reserved demure. They would be found. It was the 21st century; this wasn't Gilligan's Island. Technology was improving every day, and there were so many ways to find people. Being rescued was the least of his worries.
The waters were calm as they gently pushed and pulled under the moonlight. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, enjoying the fresh air. It was such a change of pace from the normal hustle and bustle life that he lived.
Far behind him, Fake could hear the voices of people trying to create shelter and eat for the night. He tried his best to ignore them, focusing on his own thoughts.
In the dark it was hard to see any parts of the island. He decided that the next morning he would make an attempt to explore.
He stopped for a moment and looked out into the ocean. It seemed so vast, and he could feel himself shrinking back at its largeness. Compared to it, he was a mere speck. A tear rolled down his face, splashing against his cheek. Memories were filling his mind. They were memories from a life he had been forced to leave behind. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Fake held the tears back and continued his walk across the shore line.
DAY THREE
He didn't know her name. He knew nothing about her. All Fake knew was that for the first time, in a long time, he was seeing the face of a beautiful woman. She looked a little rough around the edges. She looked like she had seen her fair share of hardship. Nevertheless, she was beautiful.
The first thing he noticed was she talked like a sailor. Fake had never been one of cursing, he found it to be a waste of words, but he didn't mind it on her. After all, she must have been scared. They were stuck on a deserted island with who knows what surrounding them. Everyone was over dramatic when in fear. Her body was gorgeous, it reminded him of a woman in...another life. Leaning against a tree trunk, Fake ran his hands through his hair. He was sweating and his palms were shaking. He hadn't dared to talk to a woman in years. There had been no point. He would grow to care for her and then in a matter of months, something would come out and he would be taken off to another location to start a new life as a new man. The heartbreak would be something he knew wasn't worth a short lived romance.
Kicking himself, he took a few deep breaths and decided that making sure she was alright wasn't such a bad idea. After all, this was about survival. Nothing else.
With what little confidence he had left in himself, Fake emerged out of the forest, in an attempt to find her again.
Finding the woman was quite easy, he overheard her talking to herself on the edge of the water. "I'm standing here, trying to be fucking nice, admiring you..." He felt his face flush. The last woman who had admired him...God, he didn't want to think about that. The slightest reminder brought tears to his eyes.
"You were admiring me?" Fake would never know where that voice came from. Sure, he had said it, but he couldn't remember forming the words or even wanting to say anything. Clearing his throat, he clarified, "I was just coming to look for you. You looked cold and I didn't want you wandering off into the forest alone at night."
"What ever! Fuck you, I can take care of myself." Startled by this response, he bit his lip, somehow intrigued by her attitude. Despite her harsh words, she walked towards him, and he did his best not to let his eyes wander. He kept steady, breathing evenly. It was something the police force had taught him well. Who knew training to defend a city could train you to keep your composure around women?
"I wasn't just looking at your chest," he added.
"But you were at some point, weren't you?"
The words once again flowed from some hidden part of his mind, some part that was being controlled by another part of his body that was certainly not his mind. Though it was such a small statement, for Fake, it was like breaking down a wall he had been building for years. He had taught himself not to show emotion, not to show care or concern, and not to let anyone shake his unwavering composure.
As a smile came at the corner of his mouth, and his face beat red, he replied, "I was only admiring you."
DAY FOUR
After years in hiding, Fake found a certain comfort in silence. He lived his life in silence, hiding behind words unsaid, his eyes the only thing that gave the slightest indication of how he felt. He said nothing of any importance, only what would get him through the day's tasks. He was used to silence.
Night had long fallen on the island. They had been there a few nights by this time, and he had fallen into a comfortable routine. Who knew routine could be found on a deserted island? While people seemed to scramble around looking desperately for a way off, Fake fell into a comfortable rhythm that kept his mind stable.
After nearly a week of keeping the same daily routine, Fake broke it, finding himself sitting in front of a small fire with the bold woman he had met days before in his arms. They comfortably, not saying a word. He had nothing to say to her, and frankly, he cared nothing much for what she had to say. While he knew there was no use in making a bond with another person, Fake found solace in the human contact he had been lacking in his life so many years. One night, he decided, of allowing him to be close to someone wasn't such a terrible thing.
Her name was Ember. He hadn't even asked. She had told him. When she asked for his name, his mouth had gone dry. Something as simple as saying his name was such a heavy burden for the man. His response had changed so often throughout his life. "Fake," he had muttered.
She giggled. "What?"
"Just call me Fake."
Nodding, she had continued to build the fire they now sat in front of. She hadn't pried, and it brought relief to him.
Late into the night, when she had fallen asleep in his arms, Fake had taken the opportunity to pull a book out of the single satchel he had from the plane crash. Using the dim firelight, he skimmed his eyes over the pages, searching desperately for some kind of trigger to remember why the island seemed so familiar. It had been bothering him all week, and still, he had found nothing.
Sighing, he shut the book, wrapping his arms back around the sleeping figure. For the night, he would call it quits. He was certain they would be there for a good while. There was time for exploring.
DAY FIVE
The feeling was normal. Waking up alone. Stretching his limbs, Fake tried not to let the disappointment sink in. After all, she was just some woman. He would never be able to establish any sort of connection with her. The sadness was easier early on. Wiping a single tear from his eye, Fake composed himself. Even if it hurt a little, it was better she was gone before she intrigued him any more than she already did. Any sort of relationship was toxic for a man who lived the way he did. Though, sometimes the loneliness was so overbearing that he wanted to risk death so he could at least die with some sort of human connection.
Gathering his satchel, Fake began to walk the island. The sun was coming up, and he figured it was best to begin to explore. Maybe he could find some sort of explanation for where the hell they were.
As he began to walk across the island, he saw small jungle ahead of him. Making his way through the tangle of vines, Fake managed to clear a path. Some animals watched him as he wandered through, but the entire atmosphere was somewhat relaxing. The air was much cooler among the trees and vines. His foot suddenly hit something, and looking down he saw pieces of broken pots beneath him. There were some sort of inscriptions on them, but he was no linguist, and so he had no idea what they said. Picking them up, he brushed off some dirt to find they were still in good condition.
Now curious, Fake stopped his walk and began to search through the plants and shrubs, gathering the few artifacts he could find. He was intrigued by this finding. The island had clearly once been inhabited, and who knew, maybe people still lived there?
The thought of other people being on the island perked his interest, but at the same time, it was terrifying. Fake gathered more and more pieces until his arms and satchel could hold no more. It was his goal to solve the mystery.
DAY SIX
The sun was beginning to go down. Fake continued his walk through the jungle, staggering along with handfuls of artifacts in his hands. His satchel, too, was full, and it was beginning to grow heavy. Stopping to rest, he found a small tree stump and sat himself down, holding his head in his hands. He was exhausted and confused, emotionally and physically. Fake listened the sounds of nature around him, the animals and the bugs. He enjoyed the sounds, it calmed his nerves.
Suddenly, a piercing scream pierced through the serene sounds of the jungle. As an initial reaction, Fake jumped, dropping some of the pieces of pottery in his hand. They smashed on the ground, and he cursed himself for dropping things so valuable.
The scream came again, this time followed by a man yelling in some language he couldn't make out. It wasn't English. Gathering his things, Fake knew he had to try and help. But that was when he realized...they weren't alone on the island.
Throwing his satchel on his shoulder, Fake took off running towards where the scream came from. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He had no weapons, no way of defending himself or protecting whoever it was that was in danger. Yet, his instinct was that he had to do something.
Approaching a clearing, Fake took shelter behind a large tree, peeking out as best he could. He saw a small village of what appeared to be natives of the island. Looking closely, he saw a naked woman tied to a pole. She was tied up to a pole, and she had her head held high, but he could see the fear in her eyes. Looking closer, Fake recognized the eyes. Ember.
Something in him reacted. He immediately panicked, trying his best to find a way to save her. She looked so scared. The woman who had been so full of attitude looked so terrified and innocent.
Placing his satchel behind the tree, Fake took a deep breath. He was going to save her. She was the first light that had come into his dark life in years. He wasn't going to let that light go out.
DAY SEVEN
Trembling, Fake had no idea how he was going to save her. He knew he had to. He couldn't let her die.
"Hey! You there...are you okay?" a voice whispered behind him.
Any other man would have jumped at the sudden presence behind him. But, Fake was so accustomed to surprises. Not much could sneak up behind him. Panicked, he allowed his voice to hitch a little as he spoke. He knew it was ridiculous, obsessed with a woman he barely knew. It reminded him so much of fairy tales he was read as a child. Of course, fairy tales weren't real. He had learned that well enough. However, he couldn't help but feel a strange, sudden longing for the woman being held captive. She was...a breath of fresh air.
"You gotta help me, man," he said, turning around to face a tall, young man behind him. The first think Fake noticed about him was a scar that ran across his cheek. He had keen sight. He often picked up on things about people- any little thing that could be used to identify a suspect in a crime. "My name is Fake and this girl..." Her name suddenly escaped him. "She's in trouble, those stupid fucking tribe people have her and they're going to kill her if we don't do something quick. They're right over...straight ahead through those plants. But I don't have any weapons or anything." He felt helpless, useless.
"Well,my names Jordy. I'm glad i finally found other survivors out here. I have two sharp spears right here; we can use them to get rid of those damn cannibals." The man was genuine, Fake sensed, and seemed eager to help. He took an immediate liking to him.
"I'm in! Let's do it!" Fake exclaimed, beyond thankful to have the help.
Jordy reached out and shook his hand, and Fake looked into his eyes. He had such gratitude for the man. As Jordy looked into the clearing and saw the scene in front of him, his eyes widened. It looked like a scene out of a movie- too unrealistic to be happening.
After a moment of silence, Fake spoke up again. "Her name is Ember," he clarified. "And we got to do this, Jordy."
"I promise we'll protect her and get her to safety. And get rid of those natives," the man replied, his voice calming.
Sinking down, they sat next to the tree, and Fake could feel the blood pulsing through his veins. He had never been so nervous. Even after the countless encounters with criminals and jobs undercover, nothing moved him to the adrenaline rush he was experiencing in that moment. Jordy was breathing hard too. There was a thick amount of fear in the air.
Standing up, Fake gathered his courage, knowing waiting to take action to do nothing. That was another lesson being in the squad had taught him. "I'm ready whenever you are," he said, the strength in his voice shocking him.
Jordy grinned, standing up beside him and nodded. Gripping with white fists to the pole of the spear, Fake began running, Jordy close behind him.
DAY EIGHT
"There's no other choice, Vince," his lawyer explained, sitting Vince down beside him. Shaking horribly, Vince held his head in his hands. "This is ridiculous. I'll be fine...we...we'll all be fine." "You and I both know that isn't true." Years of being in the service had taught Vince that it wasn't true. These men could find anyone anywhere and at anytime. They showed no mercy for women or children. When they were betrayed, they took revenge. Tears leaked from VInce's eyes for the first time in over a decade. "I can't leave them behind..." "It's the only way to save yourself and your family." "But...I'll never...I'll never be myself again." The lawyer stood from his desk , beginning to pace. "I don't want to do this to you, Vince." He sighed deeply. "But there's no other way." Vince would never forget the fear in his wife's eyes when he had told her.
He saw that same fear in the eyes of the woman he was trying to save. As they approached the group of tribe men, he braced himself to fight to eliminate the fear he hadn't been able to in his past life.
DAY NINE
They had done it. Together he and Jordy had done it. He couldn't believe it. Later, when they had found safety, Fake lay down on the sand, looking up at the stars. Jordy was on one side of him and Ember on the other. It was late into the night and both had long fallen asleep, but he was wide awake. A beautiful woman was on one side of him and an amazing friend on the other. For the first time in over a decade, Fake was feeling something he hadn't felt in so long. Love.
It wasn't love in a romance sort of way, but love in a connection kind of way...if that made any sense at all. He loved Jordy for his support and his strength. The man had met him for a split second and then immediately helped him out. Ember...well, Ember was something else. She was beautiful, yes, but something else about her intrigued him.
As the stars shone brightly above him, Fake began to grow uncomfortable at the thought of getting rescued. He didn't want to leave. The moment he left the island was the moment he had to leave Ember and Jordy behind. And Fake wasn't so sure if he was ready for their adventures to be over.
Aye Fake, lets make sure you, Ember and I have the same sort of day 9, lets keep it going, thanks :)
Deceased - day ten wrap up
Full Name (or real name): Fake Character (other aliases included: Vince Raspa, Patrick Walsh, and Joe Staccato)
From (Hometown): Unknown
Gender: Male
Age: 30 years old
Ethnicity: Caucasian
Traits (Appearance): Currently, he is 5'10'' with dirty blonde hair and brown eyes. He walks with a slight limp as his right foot drags behind him a little. He has a deep voice which is surprising due to his thin frame and small facial features. He is almost always dressed in a suit and has been known to constantly have his phone on him.
Reason for coming on the plane: He is in the Witness Protection Program and is being transferred to his new location.
Brief History (Criminal record, past): Fake Character was witness to a mob hit while undercover as a cop. His identity was given away after the mob member was arrested so he had to enter the Witness Protection Program and he has had to take several different aliases in the past twenty years. Nobody knows much about him for he is constantly changing his identity.
Anything Else: He is very well learned in history and the easiest way to strike up a conversation with him is to bring up history. Otherwise, he is very quiet.
DAY ONE
Taking off his jacket, Fake fanned himself, unable to adjust to the bright sun beating down on him. He cursed to himself, wondering why he hadn't thought to wear sunglasses earlier that morning. After all, it had been sunny when he had left home...or, that is...what was home. What he called "home" changed so much he wasn't even sure if he had one anymore.He stretched his arms out, still cramped from the seating on the plane. His hands still trembled from the shock of the crash. Despite being on a plane every few months, Fake still never would have imagined that he would have been in a plane crash. Air travel always seemed so safe. Then again, a lot of things had always seemed safer than they were. Fake had found that there wasn't much left to trust in the world. Clearly, the island was deserted. Plant life surrounded him, but as the survivors of the crash called out to find people, no voices came back.
Years of living alone had led Fake to find comfort and company in history. The figures were like parts of his life he could almost touch. They seemed so real. Looking around the island, he was sure he had seen it in some book. Of course, most tropical islands looked alike, but there was something oddly familiar about the place. Perhaps it had been one of the places he had imagined that he could escape in his readings. Any place where he didn't have to hide was a place Fake longed to go to.
Sighing, he rubbed his temples and watched as some of the survivors held tightly to each other. They all seemed to have someone. He was alone. It didn't bother him much though, he was always alone.
DAY TWO
Night was falling upon the island, and Fake wondered how the hell they all expected to survive the night. These people seemed so incompetent. They were acting as if it was the apocalypse. While it was a tropical island, it was still quite cold as the sun set, and he was shivering, pulling his suit jacket back on. He knew it was better to play it safe and not approach any of them directly. If they found out who he was, there was always the risk of exposure. He didn't know these people. Any of them could be a part of the mob. Some of them had olive toned skin and dark hair, and he was wary of running into any Italians. It wasn't as if they all had connections, but God only knew.Fake took to walking up and down the shore line, kicking the sand as he went. He wasn't panicked. Somehow, he was calm and collected. Perhaps it was the years of being in the force that had given him such a reserved demure. They would be found. It was the 21st century; this wasn't Gilligan's Island. Technology was improving every day, and there were so many ways to find people. Being rescued was the least of his worries.
The waters were calm as they gently pushed and pulled under the moonlight. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled, enjoying the fresh air. It was such a change of pace from the normal hustle and bustle life that he lived.
Far behind him, Fake could hear the voices of people trying to create shelter and eat for the night. He tried his best to ignore them, focusing on his own thoughts.
In the dark it was hard to see any parts of the island. He decided that the next morning he would make an attempt to explore.
He stopped for a moment and looked out into the ocean. It seemed so vast, and he could feel himself shrinking back at its largeness. Compared to it, he was a mere speck. A tear rolled down his face, splashing against his cheek. Memories were filling his mind. They were memories from a life he had been forced to leave behind. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Fake held the tears back and continued his walk across the shore line.
DAY THREE
He didn't know her name. He knew nothing about her. All Fake knew was that for the first time, in a long time, he was seeing the face of a beautiful woman. She looked a little rough around the edges. She looked like she had seen her fair share of hardship. Nevertheless, she was beautiful.The first thing he noticed was she talked like a sailor. Fake had never been one of cursing, he found it to be a waste of words, but he didn't mind it on her. After all, she must have been scared. They were stuck on a deserted island with who knows what surrounding them. Everyone was over dramatic when in fear. Her body was gorgeous, it reminded him of a woman in...another life. Leaning against a tree trunk, Fake ran his hands through his hair. He was sweating and his palms were shaking. He hadn't dared to talk to a woman in years. There had been no point. He would grow to care for her and then in a matter of months, something would come out and he would be taken off to another location to start a new life as a new man. The heartbreak would be something he knew wasn't worth a short lived romance.
Kicking himself, he took a few deep breaths and decided that making sure she was alright wasn't such a bad idea. After all, this was about survival. Nothing else.
With what little confidence he had left in himself, Fake emerged out of the forest, in an attempt to find her again.
Finding the woman was quite easy, he overheard her talking to herself on the edge of the water. "I'm standing here, trying to be fucking nice, admiring you..." He felt his face flush. The last woman who had admired him...God, he didn't want to think about that. The slightest reminder brought tears to his eyes.
"You were admiring me?" Fake would never know where that voice came from. Sure, he had said it, but he couldn't remember forming the words or even wanting to say anything. Clearing his throat, he clarified, "I was just coming to look for you. You looked cold and I didn't want you wandering off into the forest alone at night."
"What ever! Fuck you, I can take care of myself." Startled by this response, he bit his lip, somehow intrigued by her attitude. Despite her harsh words, she walked towards him, and he did his best not to let his eyes wander. He kept steady, breathing evenly. It was something the police force had taught him well. Who knew training to defend a city could train you to keep your composure around women?
"I wasn't just looking at your chest," he added.
"But you were at some point, weren't you?"
The words once again flowed from some hidden part of his mind, some part that was being controlled by another part of his body that was certainly not his mind. Though it was such a small statement, for Fake, it was like breaking down a wall he had been building for years. He had taught himself not to show emotion, not to show care or concern, and not to let anyone shake his unwavering composure.
As a smile came at the corner of his mouth, and his face beat red, he replied, "I was only admiring you."
DAY FOUR
After years in hiding, Fake found a certain comfort in silence. He lived his life in silence, hiding behind words unsaid, his eyes the only thing that gave the slightest indication of how he felt. He said nothing of any importance, only what would get him through the day's tasks. He was used to silence.Night had long fallen on the island. They had been there a few nights by this time, and he had fallen into a comfortable routine. Who knew routine could be found on a deserted island? While people seemed to scramble around looking desperately for a way off, Fake fell into a comfortable rhythm that kept his mind stable.
After nearly a week of keeping the same daily routine, Fake broke it, finding himself sitting in front of a small fire with the bold woman he had met days before in his arms. They comfortably, not saying a word. He had nothing to say to her, and frankly, he cared nothing much for what she had to say. While he knew there was no use in making a bond with another person, Fake found solace in the human contact he had been lacking in his life so many years. One night, he decided, of allowing him to be close to someone wasn't such a terrible thing.
Her name was Ember. He hadn't even asked. She had told him. When she asked for his name, his mouth had gone dry. Something as simple as saying his name was such a heavy burden for the man. His response had changed so often throughout his life. "Fake," he had muttered.
She giggled. "What?"
"Just call me Fake."
Nodding, she had continued to build the fire they now sat in front of. She hadn't pried, and it brought relief to him.
Late into the night, when she had fallen asleep in his arms, Fake had taken the opportunity to pull a book out of the single satchel he had from the plane crash. Using the dim firelight, he skimmed his eyes over the pages, searching desperately for some kind of trigger to remember why the island seemed so familiar. It had been bothering him all week, and still, he had found nothing.
Sighing, he shut the book, wrapping his arms back around the sleeping figure. For the night, he would call it quits. He was certain they would be there for a good while. There was time for exploring.
DAY FIVE
The feeling was normal. Waking up alone. Stretching his limbs, Fake tried not to let the disappointment sink in. After all, she was just some woman. He would never be able to establish any sort of connection with her. The sadness was easier early on. Wiping a single tear from his eye, Fake composed himself. Even if it hurt a little, it was better she was gone before she intrigued him any more than she already did. Any sort of relationship was toxic for a man who lived the way he did. Though, sometimes the loneliness was so overbearing that he wanted to risk death so he could at least die with some sort of human connection.Gathering his satchel, Fake began to walk the island. The sun was coming up, and he figured it was best to begin to explore. Maybe he could find some sort of explanation for where the hell they were.
As he began to walk across the island, he saw small jungle ahead of him. Making his way through the tangle of vines, Fake managed to clear a path. Some animals watched him as he wandered through, but the entire atmosphere was somewhat relaxing. The air was much cooler among the trees and vines. His foot suddenly hit something, and looking down he saw pieces of broken pots beneath him. There were some sort of inscriptions on them, but he was no linguist, and so he had no idea what they said. Picking them up, he brushed off some dirt to find they were still in good condition.
Now curious, Fake stopped his walk and began to search through the plants and shrubs, gathering the few artifacts he could find. He was intrigued by this finding. The island had clearly once been inhabited, and who knew, maybe people still lived there?
The thought of other people being on the island perked his interest, but at the same time, it was terrifying. Fake gathered more and more pieces until his arms and satchel could hold no more. It was his goal to solve the mystery.
DAY SIX
The sun was beginning to go down. Fake continued his walk through the jungle, staggering along with handfuls of artifacts in his hands. His satchel, too, was full, and it was beginning to grow heavy. Stopping to rest, he found a small tree stump and sat himself down, holding his head in his hands. He was exhausted and confused, emotionally and physically. Fake listened the sounds of nature around him, the animals and the bugs. He enjoyed the sounds, it calmed his nerves.Suddenly, a piercing scream pierced through the serene sounds of the jungle. As an initial reaction, Fake jumped, dropping some of the pieces of pottery in his hand. They smashed on the ground, and he cursed himself for dropping things so valuable.
The scream came again, this time followed by a man yelling in some language he couldn't make out. It wasn't English. Gathering his things, Fake knew he had to try and help. But that was when he realized...they weren't alone on the island.
Throwing his satchel on his shoulder, Fake took off running towards where the scream came from. He wasn't sure what he was going to do. He had no weapons, no way of defending himself or protecting whoever it was that was in danger. Yet, his instinct was that he had to do something.
Approaching a clearing, Fake took shelter behind a large tree, peeking out as best he could. He saw a small village of what appeared to be natives of the island. Looking closely, he saw a naked woman tied to a pole. She was tied up to a pole, and she had her head held high, but he could see the fear in her eyes. Looking closer, Fake recognized the eyes. Ember.
Something in him reacted. He immediately panicked, trying his best to find a way to save her. She looked so scared. The woman who had been so full of attitude looked so terrified and innocent.
Placing his satchel behind the tree, Fake took a deep breath. He was going to save her. She was the first light that had come into his dark life in years. He wasn't going to let that light go out.
DAY SEVEN
Trembling, Fake had no idea how he was going to save her. He knew he had to. He couldn't let her die."Hey! You there...are you okay?" a voice whispered behind him.
Any other man would have jumped at the sudden presence behind him. But, Fake was so accustomed to surprises. Not much could sneak up behind him. Panicked, he allowed his voice to hitch a little as he spoke. He knew it was ridiculous, obsessed with a woman he barely knew. It reminded him so much of fairy tales he was read as a child. Of course, fairy tales weren't real. He had learned that well enough. However, he couldn't help but feel a strange, sudden longing for the woman being held captive. She was...a breath of fresh air.
"You gotta help me, man," he said, turning around to face a tall, young man behind him. The first think Fake noticed about him was a scar that ran across his cheek. He had keen sight. He often picked up on things about people- any little thing that could be used to identify a suspect in a crime. "My name is Fake and this girl..." Her name suddenly escaped him. "She's in trouble, those stupid fucking tribe people have her and they're going to kill her if we don't do something quick. They're right over...straight ahead through those plants. But I don't have any weapons or anything." He felt helpless, useless.
"Well,my names Jordy. I'm glad i finally found other survivors out here. I have two sharp spears right here; we can use them to get rid of those damn cannibals." The man was genuine, Fake sensed, and seemed eager to help. He took an immediate liking to him.
"I'm in! Let's do it!" Fake exclaimed, beyond thankful to have the help.
Jordy reached out and shook his hand, and Fake looked into his eyes. He had such gratitude for the man. As Jordy looked into the clearing and saw the scene in front of him, his eyes widened. It looked like a scene out of a movie- too unrealistic to be happening.
After a moment of silence, Fake spoke up again. "Her name is Ember," he clarified. "And we got to do this, Jordy."
"I promise we'll protect her and get her to safety. And get rid of those natives," the man replied, his voice calming.
Sinking down, they sat next to the tree, and Fake could feel the blood pulsing through his veins. He had never been so nervous. Even after the countless encounters with criminals and jobs undercover, nothing moved him to the adrenaline rush he was experiencing in that moment. Jordy was breathing hard too. There was a thick amount of fear in the air.
Standing up, Fake gathered his courage, knowing waiting to take action to do nothing. That was another lesson being in the squad had taught him. "I'm ready whenever you are," he said, the strength in his voice shocking him.
Jordy grinned, standing up beside him and nodded. Gripping with white fists to the pole of the spear, Fake began running, Jordy close behind him.
DAY EIGHT
"There's no other choice, Vince," his lawyer explained, sitting Vince down beside him.Shaking horribly, Vince held his head in his hands. "This is ridiculous. I'll be fine...we...we'll all be fine."
"You and I both know that isn't true."
Years of being in the service had taught Vince that it wasn't true. These men could find anyone anywhere and at anytime. They showed no mercy for women or children. When they were betrayed, they took revenge.
Tears leaked from VInce's eyes for the first time in over a decade. "I can't leave them behind..."
"It's the only way to save yourself and your family."
"But...I'll never...I'll never be myself again."
The lawyer stood from his desk , beginning to pace. "I don't want to do this to you, Vince." He sighed deeply. "But there's no other way."
Vince would never forget the fear in his wife's eyes when he had told her.
He saw that same fear in the eyes of the woman he was trying to save. As they approached the group of tribe men, he braced himself to fight to eliminate the fear he hadn't been able to in his past life.
DAY NINE
They had done it. Together he and Jordy had done it. He couldn't believe it. Later, when they had found safety, Fake lay down on the sand, looking up at the stars. Jordy was on one side of him and Ember on the other. It was late into the night and both had long fallen asleep, but he was wide awake. A beautiful woman was on one side of him and an amazing friend on the other. For the first time in over a decade, Fake was feeling something he hadn't felt in so long. Love.It wasn't love in a romance sort of way, but love in a connection kind of way...if that made any sense at all. He loved Jordy for his support and his strength. The man had met him for a split second and then immediately helped him out. Ember...well, Ember was something else. She was beautiful, yes, but something else about her intrigued him.
As the stars shone brightly above him, Fake began to grow uncomfortable at the thought of getting rescued. He didn't want to leave. The moment he left the island was the moment he had to leave Ember and Jordy behind. And Fake wasn't so sure if he was ready for their adventures to be over.
Aye Fake, lets make sure you, Ember and I have the same sort of day 9, lets keep it going, thanks :)